


Interruptions.

by captnalbatr0ss



Series: The Captain and his Quartermaster [3]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Anger Management, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:45:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7631251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captnalbatr0ss/pseuds/captnalbatr0ss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little one-off in which Rafe’s had a bad couple days at work, and Sam helps him work through a frustrating business call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interruptions.

* * *

 

Sam knew Rafe was home as soon as the front door slammed.

Rafe had been out of town for a couple of days, unexpected business. Sam knew Rafe hated dealing with that side of his job. He was good at what he did, but when he had to step in and smooth over what someone else had mishandled, it made him furious.

Rafe was always drained by situations like these, meetings, calls, they always tested his patience. His temper. 

Sam frowned, pushing back from his desk, stretching as he stood.

Rafe’s footfalls on the wood floor were hard, heavy. He was already grumbling.

“Unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable—”

Sam, always prepared to diffuse, stepped into Rafe’s path, stopping the smaller man in his tracks. He cut Rafe off by leaning down, catching his lips in a soft kiss. His hands briefly brushed against Rafe’s hips on their way to take Rafe’s luggage.

“Hey,” Sam said, throwing on his best smile as he pulled back. “How was your flight?”

Rafe wet his lips, then sighed as he shrugged off his jacket. “Terrible. Long. Business class was a joke. I should’ve taken the jet. We sat on the tarmac for forty-five minutes.”

Sam carried Rafe’s luggage to the closet, setting it aside.

“Damn. Well, okay, but how’d everything else go? Get all the fires put out?”

Sam felt Rafe behind him, scooted aside so he could pass.

“Mm. For now. I don’t know what kind of morons I’ve got in accounting, but a handful of invoices for last quarter were marked paid when they hadn’t been. I mean, really. How is that even possible?”

Sam lifted a shoulder. It was a rhetorical question, anyway.

“I’ve spent the last two days on the phone, apologizing. Kissing ass. You know how I feel about that.”

Sam chuckled. “Do I ever.”

“Oh, don’t start. I’m in no mood.”

“Yes dear.” Sam threw the white flag.

Rafe grumbled to himself, kicking off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt.

Sam reached out, took Rafe’s hands in his own. “Hey, don’t be mad.” He drew Rafe’s hands up, pressed his lips to Rafe’s knuckles.

He knew too much affection made Rafe uncomfortable, but he also knew it would distract Rafe, take his mind off of the last couple of days. It was a tactic Sam employed often, because he enjoyed being affectionate, and because he was determined to bring Rafe around on the matter.

Sam released Rafe’s hands, finished unbuttoning his shirt for him, pulling it loose from the waist of his slacks.

His movements were slow, deliberate. Calming.

Sam dropped to his knees, hooking his fingers in Rafe’s belt loops and tugging him closer.

Rafe looked surprised, watching Sam quietly.

Sam reverently unbuckled Rafe’s belt, unbuttoned, unzipped his slacks, allowed himself a moment to nibble Rafe’s hip before he stood back up, fingertips maintaining contact with Rafe’s skin as he did.

He placed his hands on either side of Rafe’s neck, leaned down, brushed his lips against Rafe’s.

Rafe responded easily, opening up for Sam, meeting his tongue, sighing against Sam’s lips.

Sam felt Rafe step closer, he was putty now.

“I’m glad you’re home.” He gave Rafe’s bottom lip a tug, pleased to hear Rafe groan in return.

“Sam…”

Sam grinned. He knew Rafe’s body well, he was confident he had Rafe eating out of the palm of his hand at this point. A success.

He ran his fingers through Rafe’s dark hair, gratified to feel Rafe press his head to Sam’s touch.

“I lo—”

The harsh tone of Rafe’s phone interrupted Sam, and the older man cursed inwardly.

Rafe scowled, reaching into his pocket for his cell. As he answered it, he tugged his pants up a bit, already rolling his eyes.

“This had better be good.” His voice was sharp, cold. Business.

Sam watched Rafe’s body language, searched his face. He couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of the phone, but he could tell from Rafe’s posture, from the look in his eyes, that he didn’t expect the conversation to be short. Sam could also tell that, just like that, Rafe was back in business mode.

“No. No, absolutely not. He doesn’t need to speak with accounts payable. He’s to deal with me directly.” He gently nudged Sam over, slipped past him, leaving Sam alone in the closet.

Sam turned, leaning against the door jamb, watching Rafe pace across their bedroom.

“Well, tell him that isn’t necessary. I’ve already spoken with him, he’s aware—”

Rafe’s back was to Sam. He reached back, rubbing the nape of his neck, his head bowed.

“Stop talking. Let me ask you something. What the fuck makes you think you can interrupt me?” Rafe slid one hand into his pocket, and his slacks dipped lower on his small frame.

Sam absent-mindedly licked his lips at the hint of Rafe’s boxer briefs.

“Seriously? Christ. Fine. Connect us, then.”

Sam’s frown deepened. Rafe was tired. He could see the fatigue weighing him down, could see it in the tightness of his shoulders, could hear it in his voice.

Sam crossed the room, moving behind Rafe, wrapping his arms around his lover. He pressed a soft kiss to Rafe’s shoulder, watched Rafe’s eyes shut.

“What is it?” Sam breathed the words against Rafe’s ear. He felt Rafe shiver in his arms.

“I’m on hold. This prick wants a conference call with accounting. Tried to go around me, now he’s got the department head on edge. I mean Jesus, I already fucking talked to him. Now I have to explain,  _again_ , why that won’t be happening. Completely ridic— Yes. Mr. Stamford, hello again.”

Sam pressed his lips to Rafe’s shoulder again, pulled him closer, and held him there until he felt Rafe begin to pull away

Rafe resumed pacing, running a hand through his hair.

Sam waited, thinking, watching. Finally Rafe dropped into his favorite chair, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“No sir, it’s like I told you, there was a small error in accounting, but it’s being—”

Rafe sat up straighter, his eyes flashed. Anger.

“Now you listen to me, I will not—”

Sam hurried over to Rafe, concerned. He knelt in front of the chair, his hands on Rafe’s knees, looking up at him.  _Please_ , his eyes said,  _be careful._

“Babe,” he whispered. “Hey.”

Rafe’s jaw was tight, his lips a thin line. Sam’s hands slid up Rafe’s thighs, trying to soothe him.

“Eyes on me, baby.” Sam’s voice was soft, but it drew Rafe’s eyes to his. Sam offered a small smile.

“I assure you, we are working overtime to sort this out. In a few days—”

Sam held Rafe’s gaze, giving him an outlet for his focus. Rafe looked ready to jump through the phone. Sam knew his tolerance for being interrupted was slim to none.

“Rafe.” Sam pressed his forehead against Rafe’s kneecap, his hands still pressed to the tops of Rafe’s thighs.

He heard Rafe sigh, felt Rafe shift, and he moved his head, let his hands slide to the sides of Rafe’s legs as Rafe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Of course, sir, and I do apologize for the inconvenience.”

Sam smiled encouragingly, mouthing his words— _“Good, that’s good baby.”_

“I understand.”

Sam sat back on his heels, smiling at Rafe. Proud.

“Of course. Yes. I’ll be in touch.”

And then it was over.

“Jesus Christ.” Rafe’s voice was a low growl.

Rafe only barely suppressed the urge to hurl his phone across the room. Instead he tossed it on the bed, sucking in a deep breath, holding it there. His eyes were closed. His lips were moving. Sam couldn’t hear him, but he knew that Rafe was counting down, reigning himself in.

When Rafe opened his eyes again, Sam reached out, grabbing Rafe and pulling him out of the chair, tugging him down to the floor.

“Babe, you did so good.” He kissed Rafe’s temple, stroking his hair.

“That was  _completely_  intolerable. That man is a moron. He just likes to hear himself talk.” Rafe shook his head.

“Mm.” Sam was willing to agree to whatever was necessary to bring Rafe back to him, to get him to put work away.

“Sam?”

Sam nuzzled Rafe’s neck. “Mm?”

“Is there a reason we’re on the floor?” Rafe raised a brow.

“Nope.” Sam trailed lazy, open mouthed kisses up Rafe’s neck, let his tongue dip into the shell of Rafe’s ear. “You know…” Sam’s hands slipped easily up Rafe’s sides. “You’ve been kissin’ ass all day, maybe it’s time you kissed mine, eh?”

Rafe chuckled. “Oh, you think so?”

“Mm. I do.”

“Well, you can’t be worse than that prick Stamf—”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Sam saw the look in Rafe’s eyes, his interruption had definitely earned Sam the reaction he was hoping for. The anger wasn’t as hot, only because it was for Sam, but it was there. A spark.

Rafe’s body was still tight in his arms, still tense. Sam didn’t like when Rafe went to sleep worked up like that, it seemed that those nights Rafe was more likely to have nightmares.

Sam wrapped Rafe up in his arms, standing, pulling Rafe up with him.

“Take your clothes off,” he instructed, pushing Rafe toward their bed.

Rafe complied, shimmying out of his pants, kicking them off.

 “Hey.” Sam’s voice was firm. “What do you say?”

Rafe raised a brow, surprised at the change in Sam. “Yes…?”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.” Rafe offered the last bit through clenched teeth, but this time his eyes were alight with something else.

“Better. Go ahead.”

Rafe shed the rest of his clothes, stood at the foot of the bed, body completely bare for Sam. Still the picture of confident authority.

“So tell me, what can I do for you, Mr. Drake?”

Sam eyed Rafe hungrily, overtly, unapologetically. 

“That’s an excellent question, Mr. Adler. Before we discuss that, I need you to answer a few questions for me.”


End file.
